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Saturday, February 21, 2009

"For Freedom Float the Flags I Love"

Major Hogan: Surprised to see me, Richard? Well you've done a grand job, a grand job. But now, at dawn tomorrow, with the help of my agent Commandante Teresa, who I believe you've met, I want you to seize the chapel at Torre Castro and hold it against all comers until Major Vivar has raised the gonfalon of Santiago over the chapel roof.

Richard Sharpe: Seize Torre Castro? With six men and a straggle of Spaniards? Can't be done! May I remind you of our main mission, sir? To find a missing gentleman?

Major Hogan: Not now, Richard. Our mission is Torre Castro. Spain is a sleeping tiger! If the people of Torre Castro rise up, even for an hour, the shock will shake the whole of Spain. Carry on, sir.

Richard Sharpe: Rise up? Do you really believe men will fight and die for a rag on a pole?

Major Hogan: You do, Richard, you do.

-- Sharpe's Rifles, 1993.

Men of MacBride's Irish Transvaal Brigade during the Boer War, 1899.

On the 4th of March 1902, Confederate veteran Dr. Orion T. Dozier presented the poem, "For Freedom Float the Flags I Love", to the Gaelic Literary Guild's Robert Emmet Anniversary celebration at the Jefferson Theatre in Birmingham, Alabama. The Second Anglo-Boer War was sputtering to a conclusion of Boer defeat and English victory when Dozier rose to speak. It must have brought back bitter memories of 1865 to the good Doctor. In the poem, which I reprint only in part here, Dozier is struck by the similarity of the flags and the men of three lost causes: the Confederacy, the struggle for Irish independence and the Boer's failed war against the British Empire. He also uses the poem to criticize the United States' new imperialism at the time, exemplified by the campaign to subdue the Philippine Insurrection.

There was much sympathetic sentiment among Irish nationalists for the plight of the Boers and John MacBride, a friend of Arthur Griffith's, organised the Irish Transvaal Brigade by recruiting Irish or Irish-American miners living in the Transvaal.

The brigade (also known as MacBride's Brigade) was operational from September 1899 to September 1900. In that time, the brigade fought in about 20 engagements, with 18 men killed and about 70 wounded from a compliment of no more than about 500 men at any one time. When it disbanded, most of the men crossed into Mozambique, which was a colony of neutral Portugal. Colonel John Y. F. Blake, a former United States Army officer was the brigade's commander. When he was wounded, his second-in-command, Major John MacBride, took command. At the Siege of Ladysmith, they serviced the famous Boer artillery piece, called Long Tom, and they fought at the Battle of Colenso. Having worked in the gold mines, they had a well deserved reputation as demolition experts and it was they who delayed the British advance on Pretoria by blowing up bridges. -- Wikipedia.

The Vierkleur flag of the Transvaal Republic

Dozier refers to the Irish Transvaalers in his poem, marking their fight as a landmark in their own struggle for independence which Dozier predicted.

It was fitting that Dozier used the occasion of the celebration of the birth of Robert Emmet to sing the praises of lost causes, for Emmet represented what, up until that time was the quintessential lost cause.

The Leinster flag was used by the United Irishmen in 1789 and the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB).

Robert Emmet, born on the 4th of March, 1778, was an Irish nationalist leader who led an abortive rebellion against British rule in 1803 and was captured, tried and executed on September 20th, 1803. emmet was enshrined in the Irish nationalist canon by the fortitude with which he met his death and the eloquence that he displayed in his "Speech from the Dock," after he had been sentenced to death. An excerpt:

“ Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance, asperse them. Let them and me rest in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, and my memory in oblivion, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done.”

On 19 September, 1803, Emmet was found guilty of high treason, and the death sentence required that he be hanged, drawn and quartered. He was executed the following day by hanging, and was beheaded after death. His remains were secretly buried and their location remains a mystery to this day.

Dozier's poem is long, excessively so in my opinion, and becomes lurid with bloody predictions of an exiled Irish army and navy coming to drive the British from their native land in an invasion of horse, foot and artillery -- a campaign that was the dream of every turn-of-the-Twentieth Century Fenian -- but which was hopelessly outdated and frankly militarily impossible when the Confederate veteran wrote it.

But it is the first part of the poem which speaks to me here, over a hundred years later in the opening decade of the 21st Century. See if it speaks also to you:

I love the man who loves his God,His country and his fellow-man,No matter what his state or birth,No matter what his creed or clan;And in my very inmost heart,In spite of all that fates decree,I love him ever more and more,The more he loves his liberty.

I love the flags, the fallen flags,Of every land of all the worldBy men upreared in freedom's cause,But which oppression's hands have furled.Their memory, like a sweet incense,A fragrance sheds, all hearts to thrill,And keeps aglow the lingering sparkOf liberty remaining still.

And by my faith in living God,I still maintain that free consentOf subjects is the only grantEntailing right of Government.That conquest only paves the wayFor brigands and despotic might,Which in the sight of Holy GodWas never, nor can e'er be right.

I love the glorious stars and stripes,My great fore-father's flag and mine;It gives me joy to see it waveWhere'er it floats o'er Freedom's shrine,But if profaned by traitor hands,To subjugate on foreign shoreA nation struggling to be free,If I were there, -- 'twere mine no more.

Nor would I follow in its wake,Nor treat with those who thus offend,For all who dare that flag pervert,Deserve the death which has no end.And rather than that I should aidIn such unjust, unholy shame,I'd suffer this warm heart of mineTorn from my breast and cast in flame.

But if there be on this wide earthA people bowed by galling yokeOf tyrant, Emperor, King, or Czar,Who would be free, and should invoke"Old Glory's" shielding strength and might,Before God I'd bid it flyAnd with it there myself would go,To make them free, or 'neath it die.

I love the flag, the honored flag,Now drooping o'er the dying Boer,'Tis tattered, drooping, sinking low;Perhaps to float on earth no more.But braver deeds in freedpm's causeWere never done by sons of Mars,Than those beneath Paul Kruger's flag,Old Erin's and the Stars and Bars.

The Stars and Bars of the Confederate States of America

And well may England stand aghastWhile she reviews the awful cost,And contemplates the countless gravesFilled with the legions she has lostIn trampling down that honored flag,Since well she knows not all her deadWere stricken down by native Boers,For thousands died of Irish lead.

Nor will the Irish e'er forgetTo right the wrongs of England's might,Nor ever shirk or slight a chanceTo show how they love to fight'Neath any flag in freedom's cause,Her mean, rapacious course to check,While she retains her despot heelUpon their prostrate country's neck.

Nor love I less old Erin's flag,Kept sacred thro' the countless yearsUnspotted by a single stain,Save by a loving people's tears.I love it for its sacred cause,A cause forever dear to me, --The right ordained of God to man, --The right inherent to be free.

Its hue, the shamrock's living green,whose roots lie deep in mother sod,And like that plant, tho' crushed and torn,That flag though under foot be trodSurvives in spite of time and fate,And like the sun in yonder skyComes forth renewed at every turn,By God ordained never to die.

Born in the love of liberty,By faith enshrined in every heartThat beats in breast of patriotDisdainful of the tyrant's art;That flag shall yet triumphant waveAbove the land that gave it birth,And kissed by every ocean breeze.Be hailed in every port on earth.

There is more, but this first half of Dr. Dozier's poem speaks to me across the years. Ireland's flag did finally wave over Irish soil, but it was not as the result of a U.S.-led Fenian invasion but of guerrilla war -- a guerrilla war designed largely by Michael Collins and based upon the lessons taught by the great Boer leader, Christiaan de Wet.

Christiaan de Wet, Boer guerrilla leader.

Collins studied de Wet's campaigns, and incorporated their lessons into the concept of the "flying columns." Collins did so with the assumption that the British could never introduce -- do close to home -- the barbarous tactics of scorched earth and concentration camps for Boer women and children which broke the back of Boer resistance. In the end, he was right.

But let us for a moment back up to this verse of Dozier:

Nor would I follow in its wake,Nor treat with those who thus offend,For all who dare that flag pervert,Deserve the death which has no end.And rather than that I should aidIn such unjust, unholy shame,I'd suffer this warm heart of mineTorn from my breast and cast in flame.

You see, this is the difficult thing we face -- now, today, in the near future. "For all who dare that flag pervert." The thing is, the people who are even now laying claim to more of our liberty and property will send men to enforce their will. And when they do, they will be flying this flag:

It happens that this is our flag, too. Who then is entitled to claim it? Whose vision shall, in the end, this flag represent? The Founders? Or the collectivists who have risen to power determined to kill off once and for all their Republic? Whose flag is it?

I know this. If it is still to be ours, we must fight for it. We must fight for the restoration of what the Founders meant by it. We must, and will, fight for that "rag on a pole," and for all the Founders' meant by it and all the additional meaning added to it by generation after generation of bloody sacrifice sustaining the liberty it represents.

They will claim it. We must reclaim it. Make ready.

(Author's note: Before you folks start screaming about neglecting the novel, you should know that this is a part of one of the chapters and thus I had to transcribe it anyway. You will see how it fits into the narrative of the book in short order. This will not, I realize, be enough to keep some of you from complaining. I shall bear your misplaced calumny with fortitude. MBV)

8 comments:

AvgJoe
said...

Now you tell me its part of the book that I have with intent not read any of because I don't want to spoil it. I wanted to read it from page one to the last and let the book take my on its journey. Full effect no previews.

No calumny here - just a hearty 'well done'... and many of us, of Celtic ancestry, have a sort of inborn tender spot in the heart for heroes of any nationality who stood firm, no matter the odds, without fear... to do what was right.Oddly - for weeks now I have been thinking how prophetic, though not at all eloquent like the verses in your article, were the lyrics of an old Ted Nugent song, "Stormtroopin':... which had nothing at all to do with WWII or paranoia, and everything to do with a direction that he saw our central government heading. The Motor City Madman ( a total second amendment supporter among other good things) wrote these words in 1974-75, over 35 years ago... if you've never heard the song, some of the words are:

'In the early morning hours there's a din in the air; Mayhem's on the loose. Stormtroopers comin', and you better be prepared. Got no time to choose.

Get ready. Get ready. Get ready. Stormtroopers comin'. Get ready.

Comin' up that street, jackboots steppin' high. Got to make your stand. They're looking in your windows and listenin' to your phone. Keep a gun in your hand.'

copyrights, et all, solely Ted Nugent's of course... if you like r&r and want to support the guy, you can still find that track.

PS - I also hope to see our role model, MV, at the approaching Birmingham Gun Show...

Here's an angle on the flag. The criminals that are running this country into the ground and destroying the Constitution for self greed and doing the dirty deed for the people that own them. These people love to have their picture taking with the flag behind them or next to them. The reason they do this is they know how much the flag means to us. They know we know what it stands for so they play along. In doing so they fully admit that they know what the Constitution is all about. These pictures I believe are damning evidence at their treason trials. Proving they knew right from wrong but willing did criminal acts against the Constitution and the oath they took. Anyone think I have a point?

I, too, had a grandfather and some great uncles (3) fight in WW2 for this country. My other grandfather was too old to fight (well, too old to be drafted - more below), but he had come to this country in 1923 with nothing but the shirt on his back and one gold coin (that my father still has and which I will get someday). He found refuge here from the Russian Revolution, freedom that he valued like only someone who had everything taken from him could. He left his parents and 6 siblings behind, and only got to see 4 of those siblings for a couple weeks in the late 1960s. His parents were quite well to do before the Revolution, his father having built 12 houses with his older sons by hand, and renting them out - only to have the GD Communists take them all away "for the people."

I will be damned to Hell if I ever sit back and let the ideological descendants of those bastards back in Russia take from me and my kids the liberties that we have inherited, which my grandfather valued so deeply, and which my other grandfather and great uncles fought for._________________________Now the story of "too old to fight." The same great grandfather of mine who lost those houses had a first cousin who was born in 1873. He fought in WW1, which started when he was 41 and ended when he was 45. OK, not the biggest deal in the world. Fast forward to 1941 and the German invasion of the USSR. This guy, age 68, shows up to volunteer. Now understand, the Soviets were DESPERATE for manpower (having lost hundreds of thousands in the opening days of the war, and over 600,000 in an encirclement operation at Smolensk only 4 weeks after the invasion), but even so the officers signing up volunteers laughed and said, "go home, grandfather, we don't need you." However, he was extremely stubborn, and wouldn't leave...so they assigned him to be the driver (and bodyguard) for some general. Not long afterwards, he was crossing a bridge and the Luftwaffe blew it out from under them. They ended up in the drink, and the general couldn't swim. Yes, my 68 year old cousin dragged this guy halfway across a river and saved his life.

From such stock I come - I don't give a rat's ass how old I am, I will fight for this nation and its ideals. Not the ideals of the moment (as portrayed by the synchophantic media), but those timeless ideals first lived and written by our Founding Generation. I will not be assimilated by the Oborg.

"Progress made under the shadow of the policeman's club is false progress."

I believe that liberty is the only genuinely valuable thing that men have invented, at least in the field of government, in a thousand years. I believe that it is better to be free than to be not free, even when the former is dangerous and the latter safe. I believe that the finest qualities of man can flourish only in free air – that progress made under the shadow of the policeman's club is false progress, and of no permanent value. I believe that any man who takes the liberty of another into his keeping is bound to become a tyrant, and that any man who yields up his liberty, in however slight the measure, is bound to become a slave. -- H.L. Mencken

On the efficacy of passive resistance in the face of the collectivist beast. . .

Had the Japanese got as far as India, Gandhi's theories of "passive resistance" would have floated down the Ganges River with his bayoneted, beheaded carcass. -- Mike Vanderboegh.

In the future . . .

When the histories are written, “National Rifle Association” will be cross-referenced with “Judenrat.” -- Mike Vanderboegh to Sebastian at "Snowflakes in Hell"

"Smash the bloody mirror."

If you find yourself through the looking glass, where the verities of the world you knew and loved no longer apply, there is only one thing to do. Knock the Red Queen on her ass, turn around, and smash the bloody mirror. -- Mike Vanderboegh

From Kurt Hoffman over at Armed and Safe.

"I believe that being despised by the despicable is as good as being admired by the admirable."

From long experience myself, I can only say, "You betcha."

"Only cowards dare cringe."

The fears of man are many. He fears the shadow of death and the closed doors of the future. He is afraid for his friends and for his sons and of the specter of tomorrow. All his life's journey he walks in the lonely corridors of his controlled fears, if he is a man. For only fools will strut, and only cowards dare cringe. -- James Warner Bellah, "Spanish Man's Grave" in Reveille, Curtis Publishing, 1947.

"We fight an enemy that never sleeps."

"As our enemies work bit by bit to deconstruct, we must work bit by bit to REconstruct. Be mindful where we should be. Set goals. We fight an enemy that never sleeps. We must learn to sleep less." -- Mike H. at What McAuliffe Said

"The Fate of Unborn Millions. . ."

"The time is now near at hand which must probably determine, whether Americans are to be, Freemen, or Slaves; whether they are to have any property they can call their own; whether their Houses, and Farms, are to be pillaged and destroyed, and they consigned to a State of Wretchedness from which no human efforts will probably deliver them. The fate of unborn Millions will now depend, under God, on the Courage and Conduct of this army-Our cruel and unrelenting Enemy leaves us no choice but a brave resistance, or the most abject submission; that is all we can expect-We have therefore to resolve to conquer or die." -- George Washington to his troops before the Battle of Long Island.

"We will not go gently . . ."

This is no small thing, to restore a republic after it has fallen into corruption. I have studied history for years and I cannot recall it ever happening. It may be that our task is impossible. Yet, if we do not try then how will we know it can't be done? And if we do not try, it most certainly won't be done. The Founders' Republic, and the larger war for western civilization, will be lost.

But I tell you this: We will not go gently into that bloody collectivist good night. Indeed, we will make with our defiance such a sound as ALL history from that day forward will be forced to note, even if they despise us in the writing of it.

And when we are gone, the scattered, free survivors hiding in the ruins of our once-great republic will sing of our deeds in forbidden songs, tending the flickering flame of individual liberty until it bursts forth again, as it must, generations later. We will live forever, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, in sacred memory.

-- Mike Vanderboegh, The Lessons of Mumbai:Death Cults, the "Socialism of Imbeciles" and Refusing to Submit, 1 December 2008

"A common language of resistance . . ."

"Colonial rebellions throughout the modern world have been acts of shared political imagination. Unless unhappy people develop the capacity to trust other unhappy people, protest remains a local affair easily silenced by traditional authority. Usually, however, a moment arrives when large numbers of men and women realize for the first time that they enjoy the support of strangers, ordinary people much like themselves who happen to live in distant places and whom under normal circumstances they would never meet. It is an intoxicating discovery. A common language of resistance suddenly opens to those who are most vulnerable to painful retribution the possibility of creating a new community. As the conviction of solidarity grows, parochial issues and aspirations merge imperceptibly with a compelling national agenda which only a short time before may have been the dream of only a few. For many Americans colonists this moment occurred late in the spring of 1774." -- T.H. Breen, The Marketplace of Revolution: How Consumer Politics Shaped American Independence, Oxford University Press, 2004, p.1.